Summoned
by Cleo Calliope
Summary: A Retelling of 'The Summoning' from Derek's POV. "This couldn't have been better if I'd planned it. Chloe Saunders was going to turn out to be the answer to all my hopes if only I could play it right... Make it imperative for the sake of her sanity that he get out of here and find dad and I had no doubt that he'd do whatever it took to help her, even if it meant leaving me behind."
1. Prologue

**~ Prologue ~**

The sketchpad lay forgotten on the end of the bed like an accusation.

Simon had left it behind when he and the others had been taken on the afternoon's outing. Up until three months ago the idea of Simon going anywhere without a sketchpad was ridiculous. It just didn't happen.

That was before though. Before I screwed up, before Dad disappeared, before we came here.

Before, before, before...

I sat backwards on the too small chair at my too small desk with my arms resting on the back staring at the abandoned sketchpad, thinking of all it represented. On the second small desk across the room, my brother's other art supplies were mostly covered by schoolbooks and were equally neglected.

It wasn't that they weren't used at all. Art was somehow in Simon's blood as much, if not more, than the magic that made him a Sorcerer instead of just a regular human. Dad claimed he'd been drawing since he could first hold a crayon and I didn't doubt it. Art just seemed to flow from him. To be honest, I had always thought of him as an artist first and a Sorcerer second. It was just the way he was.

It had never been _all_ he did, of course. My brother has always been the kind to do... well, everything. He'd always loved sports and never failed to make the basketball team if we were in a school long enough. He liked video games and soccer and took Dad's lessons in magic seriously. He never lacked for friends and since adolescence had struck he'd never seemed to be without a girlfriend for any length of time either. He was the type of person others seemed to gravitate to.

Still, wherever Simon was there would always be, at the very least, a notebook and pencil in close proximity. He never went anywhere without the ability to create.

Before.

Today, though, like he had every time there was a group outing in the last three months, his sketchpad had been left behind.

I've never been much of an artsy type myself Simon devoured comic books and Manga, working for hours on creating his own. For the most part, I'd never been able to get into them. The plots were always so wildly unlikely as to be ridiculous and the characters always seemed bit over the top – like the teenage boy's equivalent of a Soap Opera. Not that I'd have ever say that to Simon. It was his thing and I respected that. And Simon was good. He had real talent and a real passion for it. More even than that, though, it made him happy and for me that had always been the bottom line.

Unlike Simon, who actually knows who his father is and had never known what it was like not to be loved, I can remember a time when I'd had no one. I have no idea who my parents were, only that it's highly unlikely that they had ever given a damn about me. From before I could remember I'd lived in a laboratory where most of the people around me didn't even bother to learn my name and everyone looked at me like I was a freak, treated me like I was less than human. I hadn't even known that that life wasn't normal.

I was six when Dad took me away from there and introduced me to the concept of a family. I'd never seen the outside world before then. I remember that the first time I saw a grocery store, full of people and food and bustle – I'd been terrified.

There were only the three of us – Dad, Simon, and myself – but that I was more than I'd ever had before. And as long as they were happy and safe and we were together, I had everything I could ever want.

It wasn't that I didn't come to realize that the life we lived wasn't quite normal either. Simon and I grew up knowing we were on the run.

But then we weren't like most people anyway, we were Supernaturals, and that meant that there would always be a divide between us and the rest of the human world and us.

We moved around a lot and while I honestly didn't care, I knew that it was hard on Simon. He made friends easily and usually settled in to any place we moved to fairly quickly. So, picking up and having to leave all that behind – change our names and break all the ties he'd formed yet again – that wasn't easy for him. It couldn't have mattered less to me. After all, I was almost seven when I first found out what a home or a school even was. I had nothing whatsoever in common with anyone but Simon and Dad. The fact was, I didn't take to others any more than they took to me. The differences between us were just too great.

I know we both worried Dad in our completely opposite ways. He worried because it was always such a wrench for Simon every time we had to pick up and move and he'd worry because we never once left behind anything or anyone that mattered to me in the least.

Still, it wasn't a bad life. For any of us.

Before three months ago.

Before, before, before...

I can make every excuse in the world: that the kid I'd thrown off Simon had been going after him with a knife. That I'd been thinking about protecting my brother and not my actions. That I hadn't really intended to hurt the guy. That I'd been scared. That all I'd wanted was that kid and his knife away from the only friend I'd ever had.

It's all true, of course. But it doesn't excuse what I did. There are no excuses for what I had done.

Simon, Dad, and I aren't human. We're Supernaturals and because of that we have to be careful. Not just because there are far more humans than there are of us and our only real hope of long-term survival is secrecy, but also because we can hurt humans, even kill them, if we're not careful. I grew up knowing that, knowing I had to be theat them with caution.

Simon, like Dad, was a Sorcerer. I was... something else. With the onset of puberty Simon's magic really began to develop and my own non-human genetics had also kicked in, but while Simon had been stumbling through his first few spells, more often failing than actually managing to do anything, I'd shot up to more than six feet in less than a year and my strength – not to mention my appetite – had more than kept pace.

At sixteen, I may not yet be fully comfortable with the size and strength I had, but I knew I had it. Being able to bench press more than three times what a normal human can, I was well aware that I had to be careful. That day, though, I hadn't been. Without even thinking about what I was doing, without even really _trying_, I'd thrown a kid my own age into a wall so hard I'd broken his back. Last I'd heard they still weren't sure weather he'd ever walk again.

I did that. One moment of carelessness; one moment when I forgot about anything but being afraid. That's all it takes when you're like me.

That one thoughtless act had destroyed everything. The next day was bad and by the day after Dad was already packing us up for another quick move, ready to pick us up after school and run.

We never got the chance.

When Dad never came to get us from school I knew something was very wrong. When we finally gave up waiting and walked home we found car was packed, everything was ready to go. But Dad's keys and wallet were sitting on a table inside the house and he was just gone. We waited for him until the next day, even though we knew that he'd _never_ have abandoned us like that if he'd had a choice. It was unimaginable that he wouldn't come back for us though.

By the time we decided to run ourselves, it was too late and we didn't get far.

After social services snagged us we were brought back to Buffalo, where we were from originally. Unfortunately, no one was sure exactly what to do with us. We have no other family. It took them a while even to figure out what our real names were as we'd been enrolled in school under assumed names as always.

The only thing that they were sure of was that there was clearly something seriously wrong with me and because of it I was far too dangerous to be around normal people. It may have been the only thing they were sure of but at least they'd got that much right. Unfortunately, the various institutions and group homes for emotionally disturbed teens were either already full or didn't have the kind of facilities to deal with someone like myself.

Mental illness being the only explanation they could come up with for what I'd done.

Then there was Simon to consider. There was clearly nothing wrong with him, but at the same time they felt it was best to keep us together, for the time being. It was the only bit of good luck we had. Or so I thought at the time.

Lyle House hadn't officially opened at that point. It was finished though and due to open in only a week. A few phone calls and they managed to pull things together enough for Simon and I to be the first teens in the new highly secure group home.

I'd come to be of two minds about the fact that they had put us both in here. For one thing, I'd have gone crazy with worry if they'd separated us. If I hadn't at least still had my brother I don't know what I would have done. On the other hand, Simon wasn't the dangerous one, he wasn't the one who should be locked up in a home/prison for emotionally disturbed teens. Also, Dad had taught Simon a spell to find him if we were ever separated. It was the only chance we had of finding him. But the spell was complicated and _not_ something that could easily be done when you're more or less under surveillance 24/7.

The fact that Dad _still_ hadn't come for us after three months meant that whatever trouble he was in, he was still in it. Therefore, Simon had to get out of here, use that spell, find Dad, and hope like hell that he'd be able to help him when he found him. As a plan, it wasn't great but it was the only one we had.

There was only one problem and it wasn't Lyle House's supposedly great security. I'd figured out how to get past that by the end of the first weekend.

The problem was that Simon flatly refused to leave, not without me, and if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that – unlike him – I was exactly where I should be. After what I'd done I didn't trust myself outside the walls of Lyle House any more than the doctors and nurses here did.

No matter what rationalizations for what happened Simon came up with, I knew that I belonged here. With help maybe I could learn to control what I was, stop the monster inside from hurting anyone else.

Simon wouldn't hear it though. He refused to believe I was dangerous and wouldn't even talk about leaving me behind.

At least, that was why he said he wouldn't leave. He believes that, I know he does, and yet I can't help but wonder if there isn't more to Simon's staying than just his refusal to, as he sees it, abandon me.

And that was why I was spending this afternoon staring at his abandoned sketchpad. In a way, it was everything that was wrong.

After Dad disappeared, after we'd been brought here, Simon had seemed to... dim somehow, for lack of a better way to put it.

He wasn't really interested in anything anymore, as though some internal spark had gone out and I didn't know what to do about it.

Even his art – the thing he loved above everything else had suffered. Three months and he hadn't even finished filling one sketchpad when in the past he usually had three or four going at once and could still fill them all in two months at the most. Hell, half of the art that had been taped to the wall on his side of the small room we shared here _I_ had put up there myself in an attempt to somehow get my brother back.

It hadn't worked any more than my perfectly logically arguments that if he really wanted to help us he'd run as I wanted, without me. Nothing had worked.

We shared this room every day and I still missed him so much it hurt.

If I'd been raised to be in the least bit religious, I would have been praying by now. Problem was that I was an atheist and even if I hadn't been I doubted anything divine would listen now when I'd put us in this situation myself. When there was a kid in a hospital somewhere who may never walk again because I'd lost my temper.

Don't get me wrong, there's a life after death. You can't grow up as a Supernatural without being aware of that basic fact. But some benevolent creator who listed to prayers – no, that one is too farfetched, even for someone with super strength who'd been raised by a Sorcerer.

Today, I had time to sit and think on my own without anyone, especially Simon, interrupting me.

Every time a new kid was brought to live at Lyle House the staff took everyone else out for the afternoon so the newbie could get settled without distractions. Everyone, except for me that is. I wasn't safe enough even to be taken out for an afternoon, so I was simply confined to the room I shared with Simon.

It pissed Simon off, but what pissed him off even more was that I agreed with them. I love my brother with everything in me but there were times when I wanted to shake him. He'd been there, he'd seen what I'd done and he still refused to believe that I wasn't safe.

Simon didn't blame me for what happened or for the aftermath and he hated that I did. They say that love blinds and in Simon's case that's always been true. He can't see me for what I am because I'm his brother. I love him for that, too. Even though it frustrates the hell out of me.

I'm not so blind, though.

It had been three months and Dad was still out there somewhere, still in trouble. I couldn't think otherwise, I couldn't face the possibility that he wasn't. Three months and Simon was still not... _Simon_ somehow. Three months and he still flatly refused to go find Dad because I didn't trust myself to leave Lyle House.

It was nearly an hour after Simon and the others had left when the front door opened. I could hear people, some voices familiar others not, as they stomped around downstairs before heading up the second set of stairs to the girl's side of the second floor. I tuned it out.

I needed to find a way to wake Simon up, bring him back to himself. Then I needed to find a way to convince him that the _only_ way he was going to help any of us was for him to use the escape plan I'd long since figured out for him and go find Dad.

Sitting, staring at the discarded sketchpad, I was still a long way from figuring out how I was going to do any of it.

I paid no attention to the sounds of the nurses settling the our newest arrival. I didn't care. All that mattered was Simon and Dad. Whoever the new arrival was, she wasn't my problem.


	2. Chapter 1: New Girl

**~ Chapter 1 ~**

New Girl

It wasn't long until lunch but as usual I was too hungry to wait. Besides, even when lunch came I knew I wouldn't be able to eat as much as I needed.

I had thought it had been hard pretending to be normal before. Teenage boys are proverbial for their appetites sure, but there were limits and since my growth spurts had started four years ago I'd had to carefully walk that line during the school day. But at the end of the day I'd been able to go home and eat as much as I wanted without worrying about what anyone thought.

Now, though, after three months of being under a microscope every moment of every day... I'd pretty much just had to get used to never being completely full. I ate as much as I could get away with at meals and then stole as much as I could from the pantry at every available opportunity. It was just about enough to keep my stomach from growling constantly.

"Peeling duty already? What'd you do to deserve that?" I could hear my brother ahead, talking to someone in the kitchen. I paused listening to Talbot, one of the nurses, who in the diningroom to see if she'd heard, but it seemed his voice was quiet enough. It seemed loud to me, but then my hearing wasn't exactly normal.

"You must be Chloe," Simon continued.

Ah, the new arrival. She hadn't made an appearance at dinner last night and breakfasts weren't coed, we hadn't got a look at her yet.

"I-I –" A girl stammered, too loud with Talbot so close. I paused and tensed but she quieted, probably motioned into silence by Simon.

"I'm not supposed to be in here," he whispered. "I'm Simon, by the way."

When I came around the corner into the kitchen he'd already disappeared into the pantry and a girl stood in the pantry doorway, her back to me. My first thought was that she was incredibly tiny and therefore not likely to be any physical threat, no matter what was wrong with her. Not that any human was really a physical threat to me without a weapon and some serious backup, but it was still a consideration if only for Simon's safety.

Now I knew I was big and was getting used to towering over just about everyone I met, but this girl made me feel like some kind of giant. Her shoulder length blonde hair had been carefully streaked with red and while I know almost nothing about clothes I recognised the label on her jeans as being upmarket. Which meant that what she could be a threat to was what little peace and quiet we had around here. Victoria, aka "Tori", our resident diva, was either going to adore this girl or loath her. I, personally, had already written her off. But since there were only a handful of people in the world that I didn't dismiss as a waste of my time – consisting almost entirely of Simon and Dad – that was nothing knew.

As I came up behind her she motioned to the box of crackers Simon was taking down from the shelf. "The other one's already open," she said, her voice quiet this time.

"Thanks, but he'll want the whole thing. Right, bro?" Simon said, glancing up at me.

She looked around and yelped – actually _yelped_ – as she saw me behind her. _Yeah, nice to see you too_, I thought.

"I-I-I –" She swallowed, staring up at me with over-sized blue eyes. "I didn't see you there."

_Duh_.

I saw no point in answering. I just looked down at her – _way _down at her – trying to get her measure. There was no way she was more than five feet and was one of those people who looked like a stiff breeze would blow her over. She didn't seem to have any figure to speak of and I found myself wondering ideally if she was even old enough to be here. Peter – our youngest up to this point – was only thirteen of course, but even with the red streaks I didn't think Chloe looked much more than eleven or twelve.

She was tensed as if ready to run and the scent of nervousness and a hint of fear hung in the air around her. Maybe hat's why she was here, some sort of anxiety problem. Of course it was possible she simply found me _that_ scary. Some people did. It was like something deep in their DNA knew what I was or at least that I was dangerous.

I reached over her and grabbed the crackers Simon was holding out. Whatever the case, I didn't care. This girl couldn't cause any trouble I couldn't handle even if she tried. So, I didn't see the point in allowing her to distract me from the vital activity of getting food.

When I tried to leave though Simon grabbed the back of my shirt.

"We're still teaching him manners," he said to Chloe, apologetically. Great. Simon was perceptive enough to have picked up on her nervousness and, being Simon, he was going to play the gentleman and try to make her feel at home. Therefore he wanted me to play nice.

I hated playing nice. It was never worth the effort and the people were never worth my time.

Still, it was odd though. This wasn't exactly a summer camp. Everyone here – with the exception of Simon – was here because there was something seriously wrong with them. Simon was careful around the other residents because of it. Not that he wasn't usually polite, he was. Still, he didn't usually expect me to be polite too.

"Derek, Chloe. Chloe, my brother, Derek."

"Brother?" she asked, glancing between us with the slightly confused look everyone always had when they tried to imagine Simon and I coming from the same set of parents. It always annoyed me but somehow coming from the mini-blonde it annoyed me more than usual. Yes, I was huge, ugly and dark while he was small, good looking, blonde and, most importantly, part Korean. Still, you'd think that in modern America people wouldn't be so confused when presented with a multicultural family.

"Yeah," I said sarcastically. "Identical twins." She just looked at me blankly. Ah, naturally blonde then.

"He's my foster brother," Simon explained. "So I was just about to tell Chloe –"

"We done here?" I interrupted. Getting out of here at this point would be a good idea as I'd just heard our Queen Victoria change course abruptly in the hall. She'd probably heard Simon's voice and was going to walk in with him playing nice with the newbie. This was not going to be pretty.

Simon gave that wave and roll of the eyes he always gave when he was trying to simultaneously apologise for my rudeness and disassociate himself from it at the same time. "Sorry. Anyway, I was just going to say welcome –"

"Siiiimooon?" Tori called, voice sugary sweet. It set my teeth on edge and Simon gave an almost wince. While he'd had unwanted admirers before now, none of them had ever been as persistent or as annoying as Tori. And living in the same house meant that he could never get away from her long. "Aha. I thought I heard you." She curled her fingers around the pantry door and peered around it, giving a too-sweet smile. "You and Derek, always raiding the –"

Then she spotted our companion and her eyes narrowed. I swear, there were nearly lightening flashes in here eyes. I could almost feel sorry for Chloe. Almost.

"Tori?" Simon said.

Her expression flipped from simmering to simpering so fast that it was as if the former expression had never existed at all. "Yes?"

He jabbed a finger toward the dining room door where Talbot's voice could clearly be heard as she talked to Liz, another of our housemates. "Shhh!"

As Tori babbled inane apologies in a whisper, the newest addition to Lyle House wisely made her escape.

Even after he'd expected me to play nice, it wasn't until Simon and I extricated ourselves from the kitchen, and Tori, that I realized that something had changed.

"She's actually kind of cute," Simon said out of nowhere as we headed back toward the classroom.

I glanced at him and was surprised to see a glint in his eyes I hadn't seen there in ages. He'd always liked girls and they'd always liked him but here he'd kept his distance. He said that he didn't want to take advantage of any girl who was already emotionally unstable. And while that might have had something to do with it, his complete ambivalence to them seemed to me to be all part of his un-Simonness.

For a horrified moment I thought that he might actually be talking about Tori, before I remembered his unusually solicitous behavior toward the new girl.

I thought back. Beyond essential facts, I hadn't really thought much of what Chloe actually looked like. Blonde, blue eyes, not much of a figure, but she did have a good bone structure and might actually be pretty if she smiled. While I couldn't help but wonder if she wasn't a little young for Simon, his interest caught my interest.

This was the first sign since we'd been here that Simon may just be coming back from wherever it was he'd withdrawn to.

It was heartening, but it also meant that I was going to have to pay a bit more attention to Chloe than I had been anticipating. I only hoped she wasn't completely unstable. I'd have to get a look at her records. They were all kept in locked up in the office of Dr. Gill, our resident head shrinker. Not that it mattered. The locks in this place were generally rubbish. I'd already had a look at the files of all the other residents, just to know what we'd be dealing with. I probably would have gotten around to taking a look at Chloe's as well at some point but I decided I had better do it sooner than later.

Still, at this point any sign of Simon coming back to himself was something to be encouraged. So, for once, I didn't roll my eyes or any of the other usual signs of disgust I made when yet another girl caught Simon's attention.

Even before my abnormal genetics kicked in I'd never really understood the point of conversation during meals. After you finished there would be plenty of time for talking but while the food was on the table I just didn't see the point.

However, today I decided to divide my attention for once and see if I could get a feel for what kind of person Chloe was beyond "cute".

Things at today's lunch were, by and large, the same as they were most days.

Peter, the only boy here other than Simon and myself, played his PSP in order to ignore us all as he ate. He wasn't a problem. In fact, with his interest in video games and low-key attitude I could almost have liked him. Tori and Liz twittered together like a couple of out of tune birds and, as she often did, Rachelle had chosen not to join us. I didn't blame her. It was the only way for her to avoid Tori's constant needling on the subject of her weight. I didn't get it myself. Rae may not have been the skinniest girl I'd ever met but I wouldn't have thought even the strongest critic could call her fat. Apparently, I was wrong. Rae may have entered Lyle House because she was a supposed pyromaniac, though I wasn't convinced about that diagnosis, but she was sure to have an eating disorder by the time she left it.

Things would have stayed reasonably quiet since our new housemate didn't seem overly verbose but Simon's interest had been piqued. To my surprise, he didn't just go out of his way to be pleasant to her, he was trying to flirt with her. I wasn't the only one to notice his out of character behaviour, unfortunately. Tori's usual endless twittering with Liz stopped and I could see her getting angrier by the minute.

Was that girl _ever_ going to get the message that 'I'm not interested in you' actually meant that he wasn't interested?

In spite of Tori's glares and Chloe's obvious shyness, Simon's charm was managing to draw her out a little. I listened carefully, if she was a total looney it was best to know as soon as possible. However, as the meal progressed there didn't seem to be anything obviously wrong with her. Tense, even a bit jumpy – some kind of anxiety problem seemed more and more likely – but otherwise okay. The only real surprise was that she was fifteen, the same age as Simon and only a year younger than myself. She sure didn't look it, but then again, if it weren't for the acne from hell I could probably pass for eighteen, so who was I to judge.

Like us, Chloe had moved around a lot and she and Simon started bonding over moving nightmare stories. It was the most life I'd seen in him in ages. Unfortunately, that wasn't allowed to go on for long though. Tori _had_ to interrupted the flow, attempting to monopolize Simon's attention by babbling some inane story about moving even though she'd never moved house in her life.

In an effort to get her to shut up Simon started asking Chloe about school. Simon was enthralled by the fact that she attended a private art school instead of public school. Better and better. If she were another artist, she'd be _exactly_ the kind of girl Simon would really take to. Tori, however, was less than pleased, probably thinking along the same lines as I was.

"Art school," she breathed, overdoing the awe as much as she could so that no one could possibly mistake the intended sarcasm. "Isn't that just fascinating. Tell me, Chloe. What do you study there? Ghost photography? Ghost writing?"

I looked up in time to see Chloe choke on something her eyes widening almost comically as she lost what little colour she had.

"Oh." Tori turned innocent eyes on Simon. "Didn't Chloe tell you why she's here? She sees dead people."

"Really?" Peter said, for once looking up from his game. "Cool."

Ghosts did exist, of course, and some people could see them. I eyed Chloe speculatively. The look on her face was one of pure horror and her eyes darted around the room, as though looking for a way out.

"It's not like that," she blurted, sounding slightly desperate. "I-I-I –"

"There she goes," Tori sighed. "Liz, slap her back. See if you can restart her."

"Stop being such a bitch, Tori," Simon hissed.

I turned my attention back to my meal, though I was torn between excitement and realism. A couple hundred necromancers in the entire of North America and one of them ends up here? Possible, sure, but not likely. Still, it _was_ possible and if she was another Supernatural...

"I didn't mean it that way," Tori said pleadingly, having realized that her attempts at showing up a potential rival had backfired. "Like Peter said, it's kinda cool. If she does see ghosts, maybe she could help Liz with her, you know, poltergeist."

"Tori!" Liz shrieked, her fork clattering to her plate and a note of the hysteria that was, by now, all too familiar in her voice.

"Here we go," I muttered under my breath.

In the ensuing chaos I grabbed the last of the casserole before it could be knocked off the table – yes, this had actually happened before. And, once again, our newest housemate took the opportunity to run for it.

I didn't blame her in the least.

I finished eating quickly. I had a lot of thinking to do – fast. It was now imperative that I get a look at Chloe's file as soon as possible. While I couldn't help but feel that the possibility of another Supernatural ending up here were unlikely it was in no way inconceivable. And Necromancy, the ability to communicate with the dead, raise zombies, and a few other rather gruesome things, _was_ the exactly the kind of thing that would get a kid put in someplace like Lyle House if she and her family weren't sure what was happening.

Besides, Simon was livid on her behalf. So, really it was perfect no matter what.


End file.
